AtLa: Don't Get Caught Freedom
by Avatarone3
Summary: short ff oneshot kinda inspired by deviantartist Limey404. Aang is tortured to death, and the gaang must rescue him. will they make it, as well as survive watching him die?


Okay, this is just a oneshot fic kinda thing, with the art that inspired this by Limey404 on deviantart. It's such amazing artwork, and you'll truly see what's going on in the story if you go to her page.

"Don't Get Caught" by Limey404

and "AtLa: Freedom" by Limey404

amazing work and the inspiration for this fanfiction piece.

Enjoy!

* * *

The smell of blood and burned flesh was enough to make one suffocate as the stench filled the crowds in the arena, yet for them, this did not make a difference. The drums sounded, marking the time of sunset, the time of the final execution, and above the crowds, the throne of the Fire Lord and Princess of the Fire Nation was adorned in the traditional colors of the nation, deep crimson and black; the colors of blood and death, while the royal family sat in waiting for their last and favorite prisoner to be led out.

Azula raised her hand casually, signaling for the jail keeper to lead him out. And even though the crowd loved the monthly executions, even a few had to gasp as the prisoner was led out in chains.

A young boy, barely skin and bones, in nothing but a scrap of dirty cloth for underwear was shoved out into the light of the fires burning outside of two pillars, and he fell to his knees in pain, but quickly got up and walked forward with what little pride he had left. The boy was emaciated, not fed for at least a month, bleeding from the other beatings he had received, covered in bruises, and could barely stand, but still he was shoved onward by the guard who showed no mercy to a young human being who was no older than 13. Yet the crowd's roar of excitement showed that they approved, for they knew who this was. The Last Airbender. The Avatar.

The boy looked up at the twin pillars set before him, the platform where hundreds, maybe thousands, had stood before him and died. For the last hour, 23 men had been tortured and executed. Blood flooded the platform where he was to kneel, but the boy stepped up and kneeled down. He stared at the crowds before him, who cheered and shouted in excitement, but he felt no remorse for what he was to go through. He felt no humiliation. His friends, his family, were safe. And that's only what mattered to him.

He had the last chance to look to his right, where the bodies of the men killed before him had been stacked and dragged away from the site, and he stared at the pool of blood collecting at the hand of a young man of twenty years that he had heard was a murderer. Yet the boy had seen in his eyes that he wasn't guilty. The man had cried, begging and pleading, no lie in his eyes. But the boy couldn't do anything but reach out his weakened hand and squeeze the man's hand, making compassionate eye contact before he was led away, letting the man know he cared…

But now he was dead. And the boy was next.

The guard shackled the boy's feet to the platform, and stretching his arms out, chained both his arms to the pillars. With no strength left, the boy leaned forward, his weight pushed toward the ground.

Azula stood.

"My people of the Fire Nation, I give you the execution of the Last Airbender, Avatar Aang. We see his destruction tonight. He is more than ready as well, giving himself up for the safety of his friends. But he has been our prisoner until now. I command execution by slow torture, as with the others. Let it begin!!!"

The crowd roared. And Aang bowed his head, beaten, dead, with a painful look on his face, staring at the blood below him, knowing that soon his blood would be mixed with theirs. He bowed his head and closed his eyes once more.

Azula sat down, and at once, the crowd cheered.

All but three.

Three hooded figures hid themselves in the crowd, silent, still, but they all had a clear view of the platform to where the boy was to be killed. All three looked up then at Azula's last words, still keeping their identities hidden, but the three young kids looking up at their friend about to die nearly broke them down, two sets of eyes blue as the ocean, one set cloudy jade, filled with tears. They hadn't seen him in over a month, and for him to look completely different and like a skeleton, the siblings' hearts nearly stopped. The once healthy, lively, and fun-loving boy was gone. A stranger stood in his place.

Katara looked toward her brother, his face covered in the hood of the cloak.

"Sokka," she pleaded, her voice cracking in anguish and despair, tears starting to run down her face, "we need to do something!" she held onto his cloak, tugging at it.

The water tribe warrior looked up into his sister's eyes, for once being completely serious. He grabbed her arm. "We can't do anything without us all getting killed. Aang saved our lives. We have to stay alive."

"I'd rather die," Katara cried silently, staring at the body of her best friend whose eyes were closed, defeat showing through his entire form, and the water bender's heart broke at the sight of every bruise, every welt that covered his skin, every stream of blood that ran down his face. But she gasped as the man behind Aang walked up.

The executioner walked up behind the boy, a skull-like mask covering his face, gloves on his hands that held spikes at the end. Slowly he picked up the whip in his right hand, the leather studded with strips of metal at the end, and he bowed to Azula. The boy fell forward, completely giving up the life he had left.

* * *

The executioner brought the whip back over his head, and Katara broke free from Sokka's grasp and started to run forward.

* * *

The crack resounded through the arena as the executioner brought down the whip, slicing through the air, landing on Aang's back.

* * *

Katara stopped in midstep, her heart stopping, her mouth dropped. She gasped as she heard that deafening crack. She couldn't breathe or move as her tears fell down her face, staring at Aang.

* * *

The boy screamed with all his soul to the sky, pain arching through his back as the metal and leather dug through, making him bleed out. The excruciating pain he felt was enough to make him die right then and there for what it was worth, and slowly losing consciousness bit by bit, the pain overcoming his fatigued and dying body. He fell forward, but the chains caught him, and pulled his arms back, making him cry out once more. But the cry he made was not of fear or sorrow. It was not the young man the three knew. It was a child's cry of dying pain, grief, and anguish, yet no one in the crowd but the three cared for him.

Katara gasped again, trying to breathe as her tears of grief fell down her face. She wobbled on her feet as she watched him fly forward from the blow, his face turned inward, teeth clenched.

The pain on his face, the tears he tried so hard to keep from falling, the blood-- Aang couldn't take it as his head fell forward, his teeth clenched, anguish filling his face. He couldn't hold in the second one that was coming, and he cried out once more, the blood curdling sound echoing through the whole arena.

The young woman tried to steady herself as she stared at him, trying not to cry out his name. She felt herself go limp, and immediately Sokka stepped forward to catch her. As he did, he held her tight for all the love he felt for his sister, he held her the tightest he ever had as she sobbed as quietly as she could into his cloak, tugging even deeper as the second, third, fourth, whipping came around and sounded through the air, and every cry that came from the dying boy's mouth ripped out the three kids' hearts.

At every crack of the whip, Sokka held her tighter, wincing for the cries of his friend, and even his tears fell down his cheeks. He buried his face in the top of Katara's hood as he clenched his teeth against Aang's screams.

The other young girl held onto Sokka as well, but with the boy being on a wooden platform, she couldn't see him, only hear his screams and the cracks, feel her friends' anguish next to her. And she was being ripped apart from the inside.

"S-Sokka?" she whispered, clinging tighter to his cloak. "What are they doing to him?"

The warrior looked up. Spirits, when Toph spoke like a lost newborn kitten, it was truly scary. The girl who cracked everyone up with jokes, never backed down from a fight, and was as strong as the earth she controlled, was now as shaky and afraid as he and Katara were. He let one arm around Katara go and pulled Toph closer into his embrace as well as the cracks continued and Aang's torture rang out.

"Toph," he whispered with clenched teeth into her hair in a shaking voice, holding Katara ever tighter as each crack sounded, "even if it's never happened, you should be so thankful to be blind right now."

As he said that, tears rolled down her pale face underneath the hood, and she held onto Sokka tighter as the beatings continued and flesh was ripped from the boy's mangled body.

Seven more whips continued, until the executioner pulled back once more, but the Princess stood up.

"Wait!"

The three holding each other gasped and looked up to Azula's outcry. The crowd became still.

Katara shifted her gaze to the platform, where Aang, exhausted, bloody, half-or-more dead, was held limply forward by the chains on his hands, no movement from him except the blood that dripped down off his body and covered the platform even more. Blood trickled from his lips as well, down his chin to the surface beneath him. She looked back to Azula.

"Avatar," the Princess shouted. "I give you a chance. If you are not dead yet, which I doubt, I will spare your wretched life. All you must do is raise your head to look me in the eye," she boomed, her voice dripping with malice and hatred toward the boy.

Katara's tears still fell as she gasped again and looked towards Aang, who didn't move. Sokka and Toph looked up as well, their hearts pounding for what Aang would do, if he was even still alive.

And the only thing the young woman could do to help him then was to plead within her soul to him. He was the bridge between the spirit and mortal world. She had to beg him to stay alive, if the contact through them was the voice of her spirit. She had to speak from her spirit.

_Please Aang. I'm here. Lift your head. For me. Please. I beg of you Aang. I can't watch you die. AANG!_

Aang didn't move for a moment, and the crowd was completely silent. The only cracks now were the cracks of the fire in the pillars and bowls.

Azula stepped forward. "Avatar, look up if you're alive."

But Aang heard the spirit of Katara. He knew she was there. And as the three huddled together watching, the crowd silently gasped as his neck shook to lift his head.

"Dear Agni, that boy has will," someone whispered near the three.

The young half-dead boy shakily and painfully lifted his head. Blood streamed from his mouth and he was covered in sweat as well as blood, and his eyes were glazed, but he stared Azula straight in the eye, showing no emotion but pain and death.

She turned away. "Release him."

Aang dropped his head once more to his chest, completely spent from that last effort, and the jailer walked up as the executioner walked down. The man took the keys from his side, and unlocking the chains that bound the boy's hands, he let them free, and had no remorse as the boy fell forward, hitting the platform face first with a thud.

Katara gasped, but turned to her brother with pain filled eyes.

"We need to get him out of there," she whispered, and he nodded silently, looking back up to where his best friend was being dragged away on the ground by his arm, making streaks of blood as he was led back to his cell.

Sokka pushed Katara behind him and grabbed Toph's hand as they made their way out of the crowd.

* * *

Hours later, around midnight, the cells of the jail were dark and quiet, save one, where the jewels of the star-filled sky and the full moon shone through, and the young boy moaned in pain. After he had been dragged to the cell, his flesh-torn back had been shoved against the back wall, his pain-filled arms lifted and chained above him, and his feet shackled to the floor, as if he would try and escape. But the boy had given up, and all he could do was wait in agony to die, and die slowly…

His head fell to his chest, his eyes fatigued and burning as they closed, and a single tear ran down his face as he took a shaky breath into his bruised lungs, which made a hasty attempt to take in what breath they could as well, for because not being fed in over a month, his ribs had shrunk around his lungs, leaving only skin as the barrier and protection to what lay not even a centimeter beneath, barely keeping him alive.

And he was a wreck outside as well as in. He slowly opened his eyes carefully, as dried blood from his head had caked around his eyes, but looked down. His bones were visible, and burns, bruises, and welts covered him, not being able to heal. How he wished that his suffering would end.

His jail cell was prodded and clicked, and he heard the screeching metal of the door open, and a few bits of clanging, but he didn't look up. He couldn't. And he didn't recognize the three sets of feet standing in the doorway. But one set ran to him. He heard the person slide to their knees next to him. He forced his eyes open just the tiniest bit, his eyes glazed, worn, and hollow. And as he recognized her, he tried to say the name of the angel in front of him.

His voice was gone, but it made no difference as the angel placed her soft hand on his bloodied cheek. It was the first real peace he had felt in weeks, but was too weak to smile or even sigh as he just stared at her, as if she was a dream and would just disappear.

She didn't disappear. Katara kept her hand on his cheek as she stared at him with all the love and compassion and sadness, yet hope and relief that he was still alive, that she felt toward him with all her heart. Tears ran in rivulets down her face, breaking off and joining, then breaking off again; she couldn't stop crying. But her smile remained on her face as she gently took her hand off his cheek and embraced him as gently as she could without hurting him. He just relaxed in her arms, in her love as Toph metal bended the chains off his arms and feet, and Sokka stood guard, and as Toph crushed the metal, she stood by their sides, feeling the emotion through their heartbeats. Spirits, Aang's was barely more than a beetle's heartbeat, it was so quiet. But he was alive.

Katara turned.

"Sokka," she whispered, and that was all she had to say for him to turn and kneel down. He gently lifted one of Aang's arms over his shoulder, and Katara did the same, leaning Aang forward and gently lifting him up. His will returning a bit, Aang struggled to stand, but failed to do so from his fatigue, and he fell to one knee, moaning and clenching his teeth, but still he persisted in getting up, no matter how much it hurt.

The two eventually got him up, Sokka's hands on Aang's small malnourished waist, Katara's hand on it as well, the other steadying his arm over her shoulder as the gaang slowly and silently walked down the hall with Toph, out toward their freedom.

Appa sailed over the giant wall that surrounded the execution arena, glad to be free of the Fire Nation. Sokka was guiding the bison slowly and steadily, Toph in silence next to him, Momo on her lap, and Katara lying with Aang, never leaving his side. The group had found a pair of pants that were Aang's original size, and put them on him to keep him a little warmer, but the at the malnourished and starving size he was now, the group could have fit three of him in one pair. But it was enough to keep him warmer.

The boy's eyes were closed, his heartbeat faint, but his breathing steady as he relaxed from his position, glad to be out of hell. His best friend and savior was asleep next to him, her hand in his, never to leave him alone again. But she slept silently.

Aang managed to open his eyes in the stillness, the wind softly blowing his loose pants and Katara's hair, but that didn't matter to him as he just stared upward at the clear night sky, watching the stars and the colors of the atmosphere change about him. The stars looked like diamonds in the sky, and at that moment, nothing but Katara was more beautiful in all the world. It had been so long since he had seen natural darkness. It had been so long since he had breathed in the fresh air of night. It had been so long since he had been free once more. And looking up at the stars, the boy knew he would live. His family had made it so.

And with all the strength he had left before his eyes drifted off into a peaceful sleep for the first time in weeks, a small smile formed on his lips.

_I am free. _

* * *

Hope you guys liked, please check out the artwork, for me. it's beautiful. thanks for all your support, READ AND REVIEW, COMMENTS PLEASE!!!!

Avatarone3


End file.
